I Was Somewhere Else
by Malaysian Gal
Summary: A short story of the first and last message to a lost loved one. Spoiler Warning...


**(A/N: Yeah, yeah… I know what you're thinking, some kind of those pathetic twists when the sister/brother/cousin etc. of the character suddenly come to the light and show their own adventures. This is not one of the above, I assure you! Just a little message from a long-lost sibling, found at last, coming to a funeral to pay her last respects to the one she didn't know. One shot)**

_Dear, dear brother…_

These were the words that came into her mind as she saw the peaceful face of her late brother. She didn't know whether it was of sadness, guilt or just a scolding for being shot by British police officers. She traced a manicured finger across the edge of the coffin, feeling the cold material used to make the wonderful object. The corpse was clad in a black and white suit; the black material only highlighted how pale he was. The pale body she stood over was encased in a beautifully crafted marble coffin, its handles made from pure silver. She thought these expensive features utterly ridiculous for a coffin and yet, a small smile formed on her red painted lips. _Someone is caring for you, brother_ The words passed through her mind, soothing her. She knew, even without her protection for countless decades, her brother had been treated well.

The woman's silvery grey eyes, once again, drew to the piece of paper like material that lay beside the coffin. The words at the bottom of the material read the words "Rest In Peace, Silas" The woman brushed away ebony black hair that started to fall to her face, partially blocking her view of the sight laid before her. _Silas, dear brother?_ Her heart said. _Who has given you such a name?_

The woman wondered if her thoughts sounded angry or disgusted, but she assured herself, she was far from those emotions. "Goodness, what did happen to you, brother?" the woman muttered sadly, shaking her head slightly. The black sun hat she wore threatened to drop but she held on to it securely. She looked around the vast room to secure that no one was around.

The church was empty.

The elegant lady then stretched out her pale hand to the lifeless body. Her warm hand caressed the cold, white cheek of the late Silas. "Sweet Little Brother, how sad our fist and last meeting," she said openly, her voice like a sweet tinkle of wind chimes caught in a slight spring breeze. "And you can't even reply to my words. How I longed to hear you voice for decades but finally discover that you can say no more." Tears had welled up in her grey eyes and her voice was slightly choked with tears. Her hand moved to his hair and she ran it gently through the beautiful strands of silver. "My sweet angel, I pray strongly that you are at peace at last, meeting Momma at last," the lady continued, smiling at the thought.

"Your sins, I have prayed, are burdened on me now, brother," the lady said, confidently. "You will have no troubles as I have helped you. I am sorry I wasn't there to protect you when you were little, but I will protect you from going to a terrifying place for all eternity."

The woman paused and gave a soft chuckle. "You know, dear brother, when the London Police arrived at my doorstep, they said I was the sole relative of an albino monk that was killed with a bullet fired from a police officer, I was lost for words," she said with a soft laugh. "They said after many DNA tests, I was confirmed as your sister." She smiled, her eyes twinkling with happiness and tears. "Well, I have finally found my family." She retracted her hand and smiled. She kissed the tips of her fingers and stroked her brother's cheek lovingly.

Suddenly, the church bell rang with the loud rhythmic and continuous sounds of 'ding-dong'. She turned to see the door open by a sole person, reeling in her arm from the coffin instinctively. _Apparently, my brother had very little friends…_ She noted down. But a powerful friend he was. The Bishop Aringarosa. As she saw the bishop stride closer, another man appeared at the door. A French man with greasy, slicked back hair and a slightly obese build. The two men walked towards her, the bishop looking sad yet happy that she was present while the French man looked unaffected by her presence. _He has a good poker face_ The woman thought.

"Father," the woman said, humbly.

"Ahh," the bishop said with a smile. "So this is Silas' sister, I presume?"

The woman nodded but she doubted whether the question was directed to her as the other man said gruffly, "Yes, yes. This is the lady that I and my men worked on finding after the investigators took blood samples from the cilice found in Sir Teabing's residence in France." The bishop nodded but the man continued. "And with the hair samples, we managed to find her. It was hard because the lack of pigment in the strands affected the DNA but we managed to get an accurate result."

"Thank you, Bezu," the bishop said. "Mademoiselle, I would like you to meet Bezu Fache." He paused and looked at the man named Bezu. Bezu, meet Miss." He paused in mid-sentence as he just realize he didn't know the lady's name. Bezu Fache pretended to cough loudly, the name coming out, muffled but audible. The awkward conversation was cut short as a priest walked into the room. The three people walked to their seats and watched as the priest said the history of Silas. The lady sat in her seat silently, her hands on her black skirt that covered her lap. She fidgeted her Bally shoe covered feet as the priest mentioned the murders Silas had committed. _The sins I must forgive and erase_ She thought.

As the woman looked at the priest, a glimmer of a rock caught her eye. She saw, from the corner of her eye, the bishop's amethyst ring. The purple rock attracted her attention for a moment as this ring was highly expensive. She realized that this was the man that paid for Silas' funeral. _Such a forgiving man._ She thought as she was lost in her thoughts, her ears catching only her brother's 'name' that was laced with the priest's droning voice.

-

As a bishop walked to a spot next to the grave, three people sat quietly in front of him. A gravesite surrounded them but this gravesite was beautiful. With lush green grass, colourful flowers and magnificent trees dotting the area, this looked more like a park with gravestones. The dark haired lady could hear the soft gurgling of water in a small pond as fish swam and jumped in the clear water, as though cheerfully playing and chasing each other. She looked at the site of her brother's grave and smiled. It his under the cooling shade of a huge weeping willow and the small amounts of sunlight, that found their way through, cast a shimmering glow on the white marble cross that marked the grave.

Bishop Agringarosa opened his mouth to begin but a small sound of shoes treading the dew covered grass interrupted. Her brother's funeral was the only one that was registered for the day. The bishop seemed to glow with happiness as two faces looked through the hanging branches of the weeping willow. The lady turned around to see a beautiful woman in her early thirties with olive green eyes, wearing a black dress, walking to two empty seats. The woman's face was laced with her flowing red hair and she was accompanied by a man. The man had black hair and a tired face and wore a black suit with a black turtleneck. Obviously, he wasn't used to the climate. And he wore a doubtful face. He was hesitant and uncertain about being at the funeral.

"Are we late for the funeral?" the woman asked, her accent French.

"Or another question, are we in the right funeral, are we even on the list?" the man asked. No accent was present. _American_ she thought.

"Robert," the red headed woman said, nudging his hand, offended by his tone.

"You are most welcomed, Ms. Neveu, and you too, Mr. Langdon. Bezu has told me about you," the bishop said. Bezu gave a small wave and turned to the bishop. The two newcomers took a seat next to the woman addressed as Silas' sister. She fidgeted nervously but gave a small smile to the couple.

She heard the bishop's speech clearly and smiled. She heard the whole story, from beginning to end. She was worried as she didn't know her brother until today but she had to say her speech. She nervously clutched the handle of her black Prada bag until her knuckles had turned white. She looked at them and was instantly reminded of her brother. She looked back at the bishop, he had finished his speech.

She stood up and walked to the spot the bishop had stood on. She breathed in and opened her dry mouth. "My brother," she started off, taking a glance of the coffin as the pulley began to lower it down. "He was a man I didn't know, yet, a man I mourn greatly. A man in which I feel guilty to. Because," Her eyes were threatening to water. "I was always somewhere else. I wasn't there when he was born, I was somewhere else. I wasn't there when Momma died, I was somewhere else. I wasn't there when he ran away, I was somewhere else." Her voice was choking with the tears that now came to her eyes. "I wasn't there when he was on trial for murder, I was somewhere else. I wasn't there when he was dragged off to jail, I was somewhere else." Her words came in a soft, broken hearted voice as she said the last four words to every sentence. "I wasn't there when he was in pain, in agony, I wanted to, I wished to be there, but I couldn't. I am guilty for each time he felt alone, each time he felt broken, and that guilt, I shall carry to my own grave." Her face was turning red, her eyes were squinted and tears broke through and streamed down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Here lies a great man, a man almost everyone will know as a cold hearted killer, but I know better. Misunderstood. Misjudged by many, he was assigned to murder many people. But he is forgiven. He will be forgiven. I love this man that I never knew. I do not see him as a white monster, a ghost as others put it. I see a man of great ability, he could've done great things, but was leaded on the wrong path by the wrong person. A person named Leigh Teabing." The man named Robert stared at her with a blank face as Sophie gave small nods in agreement. The woman breathed shallowly and rubbed away her tears with the sleeve of her black jacket. "Forgiveness is the Lord's greatest gift." Those wise words struck familiar to Bishop Aringarosa. His heart felt like it was breaking as he saw that the marble coffin was now inside the grave. "Goodbye, dear brother." The woman said. Then, she said an unexpected word. She said his name. She regained her composure, went to her seat and dabbed her face with her laced handkerchief. Bezu Fache looked at her, to Robert and Sophie and to the bishop who looked all equally pained before stepping up to say his short speech.

-

The dark haired woman stood on the edge of the grave, looking into the rectangular hole that contained the white container. _Dear, sweet brother, Goodbye…_ She thought as she sprinkled the soil into the hole. The brown specks of dirt remained on the white surface of the coffin, a clear mark, even six feet above. She felt as if she was tainting the grave. She shook off her thoughts as she witness the rest sprinkle the soil onto the coffin. The rest of the day continued as a painful dream until night settled in…

-

The woman stood on the wooden floor, looking out the window into the night. London was beautiful. _Especially from the view of the London Opus Dei Centre._ She walked to a space near her straw mat bed and hung her clothes. The black haired woman then kneeled on the floor, her partially naked body flexing its limbs as she picked up a heavily braided whip. _Little Brother's sins will be forgiven as I repent…_ The crack of the torture device echoed in her room as she slapped it over her shoulder. Continuously. Blood finally oozed from the wound and she smiled as she tightened her cilice. _You have a lot of sins, Brother._ She tightened the cilice even more. _And I'll need to start somewhere…_

**(A/N: A twist in the ending. Just to let you know, the name of the sister remains secret because it provides a more mysterious aura of the sis. Be nice and review, flames accepted but I prefer positive results. Then again, if you dislike something, you should say it and don't keep it bottled up. Critiques welcomed with open arms)**


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